Barely Human (But Getting There)
by IlluminatedSpectrum
Summary: After once again putting his life on the line for Scott's reckless, blue-eyed beta, Theo is left close to death and trapped in a trauma that prevents him from healing. The pack decides someone has to enter his memories and figure out how to save his life. Of course Liam volunteers. (Or the canon-divergence Thiam fic filling in Theo's POV)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Because I still can't get over how Jeff Davis threw wondrous character development at us and then cut the series short, this is my (weak) attempt at exploring Theo/Thiam with spoilers for 6A, 6B and probably a bit of Season 5.**

 **Also includes my take on the ending and how the Anuk-ite was defeated. (Am I the only one who found it slightly on the side of anti-climactic in the show?)**

 _Edit: For poster, please check story on AO3 or Deviantart link in profile_

* * *

Theo can't pinpoint when it happened exactly, but at some point in time he'd become intrinsically attuned to everything Liam Dunbar.

No, he wasn't ogling the young beta with heart-eyes like some lovesick moron. It was more about noticing the little things; chemo-signal fluctuations, heart rate spikes and – if he was close enough – pupil dilations. He saw how torn up Liam was over the death of Brett and Lori, which in turn made him restless and annoyed. He sensed Liam's suppressed panic after being clawed in the chest by a Hellhound, and that made him involuntarily feel the urge to shred said Hellhound to pieces.

He also noticed stupid things like the amount of gel Liam had used on his hair that day, how many goals he scored during Lacrosse practice, or how he slowly became more comfortable bringing up Hayden's name in conversation. These useless bits and pieces stored themselves into his brain without his conscious decision to do so, yet gave him something inconsequential to focus on during sleepless nights. _Inconsequential. Shit, he still sounded like a goddamn Dread Doctor sometimes._

So as Theo lay on the cold, hard ground, tuning in and out to the frenzy that was occurring around him, barely registering his life ebbing out of him in gushes of warm crimson, the one and only thing all five senses were consistently focused on was – unsurprisingly – Liam.

Liam, with his blue eyes rounded with alarm and framed with long, wet lashes.

Liam, shouting something indecipherable to him, sounding like he was miles away. What was it he was trying to tell him?

"—eo!"

He blinked slowly, trying to focus because Liam seemed upset and Theo didn't want to see him upset.

"Stay…w-…me…-eo!"

It kinda sounded like…

Like Liam was screaming his name.

"Theo! Please, Theo!"

He wanted to respond, he wished he could, but Theo's world abruptly cut to black.

* * *

 _ **[Earlier that night]**_

His blood pulsed erratically in his ears, fangs almost threatening to protrude as the elevator rose at an excruciatingly slow pace. He was at the hospital trying to find Liam by tracking his scent and heartbeats. Very frantic heartbeats. Finally, the doors slid open on the right level and he was met with a sight that made his heart stop. Liam was backing towards him, facing a narrow corridor with nowhere to hide and four heavily armed hunters training their weapons directly at him. Something inside Theo twisted. He lunged forward without thinking, wrapping an arm around Liam's tense form and dragging him back to the elevator, slamming them both to the side and away from line of fire. The metal doors shut just into time to block the heavy barrage of bullets that pelted at them.

Liam was staring at him like he'd grown a second face. "What are you doing here!?"

"Was just asking myself the same thing." He mumbled, absently removing his beanie. He was busy staring at the young beta and trying to calm his own, tell-tale heartbeat, appreciating that Liam was unharmed and standing right before him.

How was it possible he had only realised it now? Seeing Liam in danger had brought him indescribable terror, it blinded him and clogged everything rational and strategic about his judgement. Theo usually prided himself for his ability to control his heart rate, suppress his emotions and basically remain calm and calculating in any situation he faced. But shit if he hadn't almost flipped out just then… like he was back in the tunnels with Mason, ambushed by the Anuk-ite rearing its ugly head and clouding him over with nothing but sheer terror.

"Still out there?" Theo breathed, forcing it to sound even.

Liam nodded grimly as he listened through the doors, evaluating the outside situation. Theo couldn't pull his eyes away.

Somewhere along the way Liam had become his anchor…and his own personal Anuk-ite.

Seeing him like this, eyes alert, jaw tight but most importantly _safe_ \- it allowed him to breathe easier. While thought of losing him... that was enough to drive him insane with fear. When had this happened? How was it that the Theo now would rather give his life than ever witness something bad happen to Liam? Wow. Of course he would have the biggest epiphany of his sorry life while trapped in a hanging metal box backed by the melodious symphony of rapid gunfire.

But he knew now for certain, he would die for Liam. He really would. Unconditionally.

Well, he was fuc–

"Look, I'm not dying for you." His mouth blurted before his brain could catch up. _Great. Perfect. Real smooth there, classic Theo._

"I'm not dying for you either," came Liam's fluid retaliation. Although his rational mind knew that Liam hadn't projected those words with any malice (and he pretty much deserved them), they still undeniably _hurt_ to hear.

"But…" Liam continued, "I will fight with you." Blue eyes bore into him with honesty. Today they had a somewhat green tinge to them, perhaps reflected from his sage coloured shirt or the cool interior of the elevator. It was a pretty colour and Theo couldn't move, couldn't breathe. He quickly broke eye contact before he could get sucked in any further.

"Okay," he quirked a small smile, "let's fight."

* * *

 **A/N: I love writing in Jeff Davis' universe because he's so nonsensical (in a good way? lol) and leaves a lot for the imagination (or leaves out a lot, period. Smh), so that gives us fan writers so much to work with!**

 **Also Teen Wolf cast and characters are love and life 3**


	2. Chapter 2

_Stupid._

 _Stupid stupid stupid._

Theo cursed under his breath, on the verge of having an almost-heart-attack for the third time in the span of ten minutes that night.

"Just buy us more time." Scott had instructed him clearly. "Wherever Liam and the others are, get them out of there." Not, _charge at any gun pointed at you, roar majestically and eat all the bullets_.

They were idiots for not pressing a button in the elevator and just bolting while they had a chance. That's what Theo should've done. Gotten him and Liam out the door, into his truck and away from the chaos. This wasn't his war to fight.

So curse Liam and his awe-inspiring bravery and his stupid determined face and his stupid blue-green eyes and his stupid "but I will fight with you" making Theo forget how to think. Before he'd realised it, they'd charged out together, eyes glowing and claws readied to fight.

To be fair, they had started off pretty damn impressive. The way their movements were perfectly in sync, interchanging so fluidly between leaping and slashing, twisting and ducking, it flowed like an intricate dance. It was remarkably distinctive to the last time they had partnered together within these hospital halls when they were distracting the Ghost Riders. That had been a clumsy and desperate fight for survival with wild strokes of luck (and surgical saws) thrown inbetween. This…this was different. This was like they'd been fighting together all their lives.

And this time, when they paused to grin at each other, he could tell Liam felt the same.

But then things went to shit as they always do. Suddenly Gabe was raining bullets at them again like a maniac, Theo was pushing Liam in front of him and they were running, running. He hissed as the sting of the bullet cut through his shoulder and sent a jolt of pain down his left side. Had it skimmed under his clavicle or something because Jesus it hurt like a bitch. He just... needed one second to catch his breath..to compartmentalise the pain – something he had mastered over the years, something Theo was good at.

Just one second..pressed here against the wall... and GREAT, the next thing he knew, Liam was on the other side of the room grappling with Gabe for his gun, leaving Theo wondering when the _hell_ he had let that happen. Also, why wasn't Liam easily overpowering him? How could he be struggling against a human classma- oh. His leg. No. No-

Theo immediately scrambled to push himself off the ground and go help but the resounding _bam!_ of a gunshot stopped him short. The combination of emotions that turmoiled within the next three seconds were enough to make his stomach heave. Heart-stopping horror that Liam had been hurt. Intense relief that he was fine. Abhorrent shock as Gabe was shot in the chest again. And again.

And again.

By someone on his own side, no less. Theo winced and looked away on the last shot.

The silence that followed was almost as deafening as the previous barrage had been. He barely noticed when Nolan knocked out the shooter with a fire extinguisher, or when Mason and Corey appeared around the corner, although his eyes did sweep over Melissa crouching to help Liam, the latter nodding to signal he was okay, because Gabe had started making horrible gurgling noises as he dragged himself to the nearest cabinet wall for support. The absolute betrayal shone in his eyes, he suddenly looked every bit the scared kid who had gotten himself involved in the wrong fight.

Conflicting emotions surged around the room, but stench of pity made Theo sick. He moved slowly, following the macabre smear of red left by Gabe, its vibrancy enhanced by flickering overhead lights. When Gabe lifted his eyes, in that shadowed face, Theo saw his own. He couldn't help but wonder, would that be everyone's reactions if he were in that position one day? Or maybe they would look on with disgust and tell him it was too easy of a death for him. He didn't deserve any better, but selfishly, absurdly, he...he didn't want that. He wouldn't be able to stand them looking at him with eyes like that. _He wouldn't be able to stand Liam looking at him like that._

"It hurts. It hurts." Tears had started streaming down Gabe's face as it dawned on him that he was dying. Did he regret it all, like Theo did? He remembered glimpsing the disillusioned boy around school, looking every bit the typical jock, the ordinary teenager. That was the life he was supposed to have, but would never get a chance at again. Just like Theo wouldn't, either.

Gabe shuddered in trepidation as he approached, fearing the worst but too weak to do anything about it. Theo gingerly clasped his trembling wrist in both hands and tried to convey through his eyes that he was trying, one step at a time. He was trying to be better. Just like how he yearned, deep down, for an unmerited second chance, surely this dying boy was at least entitled to spend his last living moments in peace? This struggling figure in front of him, old enough to lift a gun against his classmates, too young to comprehend the full extent of the cause he stood behind, misguided by twisted truths and manipulating lies. It felt harrowingly resonant. Theo pushed that away and focused on the young hunter, willing to relieve him of his pain and fear. Focused on willing to be able to do something for someone for once. He cared enough to want to.

He cared about being human.

The sudden pain shocked him like an electric current, flaring his wounded shoulder, crawling up his veins akin to demonic liquid fire. Theo watched it happen in astonishment, drawn to the telling shift in Gabe's eyes as he finally understood what was occurring, finally was able to take slow, uninterrupted breaths. His shoulders slouched in ease.

"Does it hurt anymore?"

"No."

"Good."

 _Thank you_ , Gabe's tired eyes seemed to say. Theo blinked and inclined his head very slightly.

Then Gabe was still.

Something wet dropped on his hand and Theo dully realised he was crying. He'd forgotten the last time he'd let a tear fall without intending to. Yet it was this entirely supernatural, otherworldly feat that had somehow grounded him with just that little bit more humanity. He quickly brushed at his cheeks. They didn't stay dry for long.

A hand gently touched his uninjured shoulder and a familiar voice soothed, "It's okay. Everyone cries the first time it happens." Instantly, Theo felt his heartbeat calm, his breathing even and his head lighten up. He shut his eyes and basked in the warmth that the hand brought him. Only one person had this effect on him, had this _power_ over him.

Liam.

No doubt Liam.

Always Liam.


	3. Chapter 3

The younger wolf was getting increasingly agitated in the seat beside him. Theo could tell from the way he was picking at his fingers and bouncing his knee to a nonexistent rhythm. _Liam's nervous habits,_ his brain supplied him.

They were on their way to the school in Theo's truck – Mason and Corey close behind in a second car – after receiving collective texts from Stiles that the rest of the war was being fought there. Of course it would be Beacon Hills High, where anything but actual education happened.

At the hospital Melissa had made quick work of removing their bullets and patching them up before she sent them off with a grim but firm, "Be safe, kids." He hadn't missed the way she pointedly looked at each of them when she said that, himself included.

The drive was swift and uninterrupted; there wasn't even a real need keep his eyes on the road considering the current traffic (or rather lack thereof). Had he not known better, Theo would've thought Beacon Hills was a deserted ghost town. But no, upon closer inspection, dim lights could just be spotted in the clusters of houses they passed. People were here, they were just hiding. Either from supernatural creatures apparently prowling the streets or from self-proclaimed hunters actually prowling the streets, it was probably for the best. If Theo were to be very honest, it was entirely unnerving how much the town had changed practically overnight.

Speaking of unnerving experiences, the awkwardness of this ride was about to hit a spot in his top three soon. Theo scrubbed at his face and shot another sideways glance at Liam, who was once again trying to discreetly stare at Theo. Keyword being _trying_. For the fifth time.

He tried to shrug it off and reached a hand to fiddle around the collar of what had been his newly washed, favourite black T-shirt. It was now a sad thing with creases, bloodstains and a fashionable ripped hole in the back. What was the point of picking favourite clothing as a werewolf, seriously? _Except you're not a werewolf, not really._ That little voice in his head that appeared in the most inopportune times reminded him, as always. Theo didn't have the time to figure out who it sounded like today, so as always, he told it to go fuck itself. His skin crawled with the sensation of being watched and he glanced to his right again. At least Liam had the decency to avert his eyes this time. Theo's eyebrows furrowed.

"Did you wanna say something or…?" Was Liam hurt elsewhere that he hadn't noticed? He couldn't detect any fresh blood or concealed pain, but he gave the fidgety beta a careful once-over just in case.

"I…uh…I…" Liam looked very put on the spot, like _Theo_ was the one who'd been acting weird since they'd gotten in the car.

What was it…anger? Anxiety? No Liam actually felt relatively calm and from his chemo-signals all Theo could glean was a bit of…restlessness mixed with a touch of confusion. Huh?

If anything, Theo was the one who should've been restless. He'd let a moment of weakness show in front of too many people he had yet to fully trust, and it had taken longer than he would've liked to rein his emotions back in check. That, combined with how he'd obviously given everyone back there a free ticket to the 'Liam working his anchor magic on Theo' show, was enough to make Theo consider shifting into his wolf form right there and running off into the woods to never return.

Okay, nothing that dramatic. Maybe. But truthfully, the foreign feeling of revealing so much about himself perplexed him. Set him on edge. And Liam making a 180-degree turn to a shy, stuttering middle-school girl was not helping.

He fiddled with his shirt again, trying to think what Liam could be confused about and how he might be able to help before they entered what could very well be the last fight of their lives.

 _No._ He corrected himself immediately. _Not the last fight, not for Liam. He wouldn't let that be the case._

The steely resolve made a hard edge flash over his eyes, accidently causing Liam to shrink back from whatever he'd finally mustered the courage to lean over and say.

Theo didn't have the energy to push him again so he experimentally rolled his shoulders instead, a huff of irritation escaping when he accidentally jostled his still healing left side.

Liam's gaze followed his movements, "are…are you okay?" he asked.

"Peachy." Theo replied without real vehemence.

Liam pursed his lips. He stared some more. It made Theo want to start fidgeting again because it never happened like this, it was always the other way round, with Liam at the end of the staring.

Suddenly, a tentative hand reached over and slender fingers wrapped between Theo' shoulder blade and neck in a gentle but firm grip. Liam squeezed a few times with equal force, then ran his knuckles over the tense muscle in soothing circles, as though trying to iron out the stiffness, before settling back into his seat in silence.

 _Um._

Theo decidedly spent the next few moments impersonating a block of ice. He had no idea what to make of that little impromptu massage. Could it even be classified as a massage if it made him even tenser than before?

It had felt far too friendly – intimate almost, but he wasn't going to go there – and therefore _really out of place_. Sure, they'd had plenty of shared experiences as of late and sure, they might've even formed some twisted sort of easy camaraderie out of circumstance, but…what was _that_? That wasn't something you did to someone who once betrayed and manipulated you and all your friends, who you loathed while you had no choice but to work together, against your better judgment. That wasn't even something you did to someone you barely half-tolerated and still threw insults at with every second sentence.

…Just like comforting someone, telling them it was okay to cry, while you stood bleeding from a bullet in your leg, wasn't.

It was a dangerous thought that Theo, by all means, should not have nurtured; a seedling he should've tamped into the dirt before it blossomed. But Theo couldn't help himself. His brain buzzed with the fact that Liam could, potentially, just maybe, _trust_ him to some degree. Liam may even consider him somewhat a worthy ally, an almost-friend. An entirely unwise decision on Liam's behalf no doubt, but the idea of it made Theo's heart soar.

"Thanks," Theo said as sincerely as he could, "and… thank you for earlier by the way. At the hospital."

Liam's eyes rounded before he sputtered, "No, no, I…I've actually been the one wanting to say that–"

"Liam, don't. Please." Theo cut him off tersely, voice raspy and sounding pathetic even to his own ears. But it had suddenly clicked to him what Liam was struggling to express all this time and he couldn't bring himself to hear it. They locked eyes, baby blue orbs shimmering with surprise, hazel-grey ones pleading.

 _Atonement doesn't deserve gratitude. Especially not from you._

 _I don't have the right–_

 _I will never do enough-_

 _Please._

By some miracle Liam seemed to get it. At least, he understood enough to kindly let it go, no insistence for clarification. It was an act out of thoughtfulness and consideration for him and Theo was once again struck by the thought that _he didn't deserve Liam._ He didn't deserve anything to do with this boy sitting beside him, didn't deserve to even be in his presence _._ His throat dried as he tapped a steady, inconspicuous rhythm on the side of the steering wheel, matching his heartbeat to the pace. _Not the time and place Theo. Not now. Focus._

Fortunately, he was saved from his thoughts as they turned into a drive just one block from the school. Both wolves instinctively went still, picking up though smell before sight that the vicinity was crawling with hunters. To make things worse, the Anuk-ite was clearly at large, judging from the tight constricting that had begun to grip inside their chests. If it was striking a range as broad as this, it had definitely been feeding well. Liam visibly paled.

Theo purposefully cleared his throat and said in an unnecessarily loud volume, "Remember, no looking the Anuk-ite in the eye, yeah?" Liam nodded quickly, evidently agreeing he was ready to focus on the task at hand.

The closer he drove them, the more palpable the fear became, to the point that Theo had to consciously remind himself to keep his foot on the accelerator. Tendrils of dread lapped at them through the air, snaking into their senses unbidden and when every muscle in Liam's body began to curl in on itself, Theo quickly added for the sake of normalcy, "I can't drag your sorry ass behind elevator doors again if you're a piece of rock."

At least that finally got some sort of weak smile back on Liam's face, despite it falling as briefly as it came. "The school doesn't have any elevators, dumbass."

Then he peered hesitantly at Theo, voice soft with genuine worry, "Do you think the others are okay?" The look in his eyes withered away any dry humour Theo had been planning to inject into his reply.

"Hey." He kept his voice uncharacteristically low and serious, so as to not betray the doubt swirling in his mind. "I'm sure Scott's capable of handling himself. Malia too. And Lydia. They'll be fine, worry about yourself so they won't have to." _So I won't have to._

If Theo was being realistic, he would admit he had no idea if the others were even alive at this point. There was no guarantee something hadn't happened between the hospital and now and consequently no one was available to warn the newcomers of an imminent death. The state of the school at the moment only increased the probability of that being the case. Theo hastily shoved away the pragmatist inside him, keeping his eyes sharp as Liam studied his face, pretending he believed his own words. It worked.

"Yeah, yeah you're right." Liam agreed, his fists unfolding.

"Upside is, you're allowed to get angry tonight?" Theo continued, "But not too angry. If I'm beside you, I don't have time to be collateral damage to another one of your were-Hulk rampages."

Liam rolled his eyes with a soft snort, puffing a stray piece of hair away from his forehead, making Theo realise he'd been itching to push it back himself for quite some time now.

"Fine. I don't wanna be knocked out five times again."

"Damn straight."

Ignoring the throbbing pain in his eye sockets, Scott honed all the rest of his senses on using everything Deucalion had taught him during their brief Sleep-shade training.

He knew the Anuk-ite had grown impatient the moment it resorted to physically attacking him, but what surprised him was how he parried it blow for blow. With each strike his confidence surged.

 _Echolocation._

Light steps echoed on the library floor. Faint crackling rebounded from the shelves behind him.

 _Thermoception._

Thrumming energy heated his back, approaching fast.

 _Equilibrioception._

Scott spun on his left heel, maintaining his stance.

 _Proprioception_.

He ducked under the swish of movement to his left and punched hard, fist connecting with something heavy and solid. The satisfying crunch and sound of collapsing furniture that followed was practically music to his ears.

The Anuk-ite may be able to turn people to stone with its eyes, but in physical combat, it was no match for an Alpha werewolf.

"You can't beat me." Scott growled with conviction. "I'm not afraid of you. Not anymore." And had the Anuk-ite possessed enough super-hearing to detect lies, it would've known that Scott's heart hadn't missed a beat.

Now Scott's only concern was the faint heartbeats and scents of his friends scattered around the campus that were growing weaker by the second. Their locations were unmoving and he didn't need his sight or training to know what that meant. Scott could only pray Stiles would get here in time and prove his theory right. Could only pray his theory _would_ be right.

As soon as they parked, Corey and Mason pulled up behind them, followed closely by Roscoe.

"Alright, so Scott had a look at the stoned statues and in a moment of unprecedented genius thought we could do tit for tat and try trapping the thing in Mountain Ash, since it's now, y'know, technically half werewolf or something." Stiles' familiar babbling filled their ears as they hurriedly exited their respective vehicles and met in a tight circle. He waved the gigantic jar of black ash in his hands for emphasis.

Liam instinctively shrunk away and Theo quickly pushed Stiles' hand down. "Sounds almost legit, but not going to work if you spill our entire supply of Mountain Ash right here." Stiles narrowed his eyes at Theo but hugged the jar to his chest protectively.

"Okay, so anyone but Liam just has to throw this jar at it and we should be good, right?" Corey looked around the group.

Theo flicked out his claws with a pointed look to indicate he was going down fighting. Mason held up his trustworthy baseball bat and shrugged, "I got a weapon." He turned to Stiles, whose narrowed eyes were now trained on the deformed, lumpy metal in his hands. "Stiles, you cool to do it? You're kinda the one with experience with the stuff. Corey can make us invisible and we can get you to the Anuk-ite together."

"What in Medusa's name did you do to my bat–"

"Let's do it." Liam cut in, cracking his neck, to which Mason and Corey gave affirmative nods after sharing a soulful gaze. Stiles licked his lips, "Alright hands in everyone. For our friends in there, for Beacon Hills, for everyone we love, everything we stand for and– "

Theo abruptly turned and stalked towards the school. "Fucking get this over with."

"Does anyone even like that guy?" Stiles chased after him, voice progressively lowering into an aggressive, hushed whisper as they neared the gates. "Nope, not one hand raised Theo. Not one!"

Two strong and steady heartbeats filtered into his hearing, one comfortingly familiar and bringing an ache of protectiveness, the other instinctively spiking a puzzling mix of both wariness and relief. He knew who they were instantly. Liam and Theo. They were okay, they were here and they were fighting back.

Now there were four new heartbeats. Five. Scott squared his shoulders with renewed strength and the grin that spread across his face was brighter than any he'd graced for far too long. The distinct sounds of hunters yelling and guns firing, of vicious growls and metal cracking on bone grew increasingly louder, painting him a descriptive picture of the fight happening outside. He needed to give them just that little bit more time. He turned to face the Anuk-ite.

"You wanted enough power so that you could never be trapped again."

Louder still. They'd breached the main doors.

"You wanted the power of a Shapeshifter like me."

Thundering footsteps of more hunters running to the action. The sharp tang of blood filled his nostrils. Werewolf blood. Theo let out a howl of anguish that made his hairs stand on end. Scott gritted his teeth and pressed on.

"But that comes with all the rules of being a Shapeshifter."

He could hear Stiles raging. Mason shouting. But they were close, so close…

"We have weaknesses."

Something must have happened to Liam and he swallowed back the panic edging into his system. The gunshots and yells were relentless. For a split second Scott could no longer differentiate friend from enemy.

"We have lines we can't cross."

He couldn't let this happen. They needed him. His pack needed him. Scott had to let them know he was here for them. He had to let them know they could do this, they had been through so much, they wouldn't get beaten down now.

"And we have rules to obey."

He lifted his face to the arched ceiling - at the luminous moon that shone above – and he roared. Fire surged through his veins, fuelled by his resolve and desperation. It coursed to his bloodied eyes as they glowed and healed, replaced by blazing red irises brighter than ever before, burning through the darkness of the library like beacons. The roar reverberated down the halls with raw power – the power of a True Alpha. It was animalistic, it was commanding, it was lethal.

Weapons clattered to the linoleum floor as the hunters covered their ears, knees bending from the impact.

Liam's radiant yellows intensified, the pained expression he had been sporting faded away as he instinctively howled in response.

One by one the suffocating, stony exteriors of their confined pack members began to crack and deteriorate, crumbling to the ground in broken pieces. And out burst five very alive and very angry werewolves, irises livid with their respective gold and blues, setting the shadowy school ablaze with responding beacons signalling _pack_.

 _Signalling war._


	4. Chapter 4

"Can you tell where it came from?" Stiles shouted at Liam.

"The library!"

"Corey, Mason, cover me!" Stiles disappeared from view within the next second, taking advantage of the temporary distraction to make a move. The stunned hunters in the direction of the school library started falling left and right before they could collect themselves, accompanied by the thwacks of a baseball bat at work. Damn, Mason was getting the hang of his swing. Liam made a mental note to chat to his friend after all this was over; maybe it was time to reconsider his career path. But for now, he turned his attention back to the hunters around them who were scrambling for their guns again.

The low throb in his leg, although dulled from adrenaline evoked by his Alpha's roar, reminded him he'd been shot in his left leg, again. It'd ripped through his thigh this time, leaving a gruesome exit wound that he wasn't sure whether to deem a good or bad thing. Liam angrily shook out the sweaty bangs plastered to his forehead and scanned the crowd for Theo, finding him on the other side of the hall, wolfed-out and blinking slowly in bewilderment. Liam searched the chimera for injuries – he'd vaguely heard Theo roar furiously right after he'd been shot so maybe the chimera had been too? He seemed fine though, as fine as one could be in this situation. Feeling more at ease he focused on channelling his anger instead, also fully shifting until his features took on razor edges to match his already unnaturally glowing eyes. He pushed himself off the lockers with a predatory growl under a smirk; he didn't miss the terror on the faces of those nearest.

Theo had been in the middle of fighting his way back to Liam when a bellow of absolute authority clouded his senses, the familiar prickling sensation crept through him and suddenly his fangs were jutting against his lips and his face was contorting into what felt like a permanently furrowed brow. The werewolf form was thoroughly intense and precisely made for battle. Being in it was unmistakable.

 _Scott?_ He vaguely identified. Theo had never felt anything like it, never thought it would be possible for him. One moment he was seeing all red – as red as the blood gushing from Liam's leg, as red as the agony etched across Liam's face - his mantra of 'don't kill, only incapacitate' lost to the wind. The next moment an impossible power thrummed through his veins. His senses sharpened, limbs felt more agile, and it was all because of one roar.

But he was a failed experiment, born of science rather than the supernatural. It didn't make sense; it was supposed to be concrete fact that he'd never be able to experience the same natural connections Liam and the rest of Scott's pack had with one another. Yet somehow, here he was, resisting the urge to howl back, filled with foreign feelings he'd previously grown so accustomed to dance at his fingertips out of reach.

 _Belonging._

Hope.

Somewhere in his conscious, Scott had sent that roar out to all his friends, to all those fighting on their side tonight. And somehow, that had included Theo.

He couldn't help but smirk back. The remainder of hunters in that hallway never got time to reload their guns.

The Anuk-ite was screeching an awful sound that was delightfully ironic. Scott could practically taste the fear rolling off it in waves. In its startled state it barely processed when the library doors slammed open, revealing a hauntingly dark-eyed Stiles. Scott gaped as his friend looked directly at the Anuk-ite without batting an eyelash, realising he was seeing something that occupied his nightmares more often than he would've liked – the face of Stiles lost to the void. The hollow pang that gripped his chest mirrored the emptiness of Stiles' appearance. He choked on his breath, all thoughts of Native American mythologies or werewolf-hunter wars thrown to the back of his mind. _When had Stiles regressed?! What had caused it, why hadn't Stiles' said anything and why wasn't_ \- then Stiles opened his mouth.

"Oh, good _Lordy_ ," he made a gagging face that instantly broke his cold demeanor, "dude, you deserve this just for looking like the inside of my butthole." He slammed the jar of Mountain Ash to the ground, smashing it to smithereens, the ash escaping with a soft hush. It spread like a crawling black carpet and swirled in a manner that could only be described as magical. Slithering around its target, it consumed the Anuk-ite in a deadly vortex, crackling and hardening until the creature was trapped within its own personal prison, an exact replica of its many petrified victims.

Scott smiled apprehensively at his friend after the dust settled. "How long do you think this will last?"

The answer came in the form of a deep roar filling the halls of Beacon Hills High for the second time that night. This one was majestic and thundering, distinctly less werewolf, distinctly more…

 _Hellhound._

Stiles cocked a lopsided grin, eyes glittering mischievously once again, "Let's hope we don't need to wait and find out, cause I called reinforcements."

The stream of arriving hunters – endless. Like the entire town was trying to squeeze into this single hallway of the resident high school. Or rather, like a manifesting, weapon-wielding, leather-and-dark-denim-clad zombie hoard pouring inside. It might've looked epic for the avid gamer, had it not been in real life, with live ammo and a legitimate life-or-death situation. Liam and Theo had been trying to gain ground towards the library but the effort was proving futile. With every inch covered here, another was immediately taken there. Ten or so hunters in between. It was seriously getting old.

Derek was the first to re-join them, a vicious, hulking blur of finesse and fury. Then came Malia, eyes no less cerulean, claws no less lethal.

And, to everyone's surprise, Parrish was third, charging through the crossfire with rivulets of lava licking up his torso, glowing out his eyes and promised in his roar. He overheated the metal in the hunters' hands as he passed, heading straight for the library, led by his Hellhound intuition to target their current biggest supernatural threat.

Blistering weapons clattered to the floor accompanied by yelps of disbelief. Then it turned into an all-out brawl.

The melee combat gave their werewolf reflexes leverage, but they were still being worn out by sheer numbers. The hunters came in wave after unrelenting wave, almost looking closer to a swarm now. Buzzing and blood-thirsty. The disgustingly familiar feeling of claustrophobia in a tight corridor came yet again.

Some insane hunter slashed at Liam's arm with what looked like a machete, held by its unaffected rubber grip. Theo barely dodged two arrows aimed for his head from a plastic training bow, one of them grazed across his cheek and spilled warmth down his bruised face. Malia howled as she was body-slammed backwards into Derek by a combat boot clad Schwarzenegger replica.

Outnumbered.

And losing.

"Get down!" yelled a voice from behind them, frazzled, guttural and high-pitched enough to be distinctively female. They ducked reflexively. Something invisible soared over their heads a second later that barrelled into the first six or so rows of hunters like a freight train, knocking them flying off their feet, into the walls, onto the ceiling. The sheer force of it rattled Theo's teeth and his hands shot over his ears, the pounding passed through his eardrums into his head. It was a _scream_.

An unearthly, gut-twisting, _goddamn amazing_ Banshee scream.

Her hair fluttering around her like a fiery halo, Lydia sunk to the ground panting heavily. She shot a weak smile at them and waved her hand like it was no big deal.

"You guys…go ahead. I'm just gonna…need…a minute here."

Parrish burst into the library in a glory of incandescent flames; the very picture of a Harbinger of Death. With a feral growl the shirtless Deputy lunged towards the trapped Anuk-ite, bearing a huge inferno of hellfire. Scott and Stiles leapt out of the way just in time. He hit like a warhead. The Anuk-ite combusted upon impact, the rattling explosion left their ears ringing and flaming debris rained around them, kindling the library in slivers of eerie firelight. The change was instantaneous.

The air tasted warmer, sweeter, _cleaner_. The world was finally rid of one less Anuk-ite.

With the fog lifted and the poison extracted from their insides, many of the hunters who had been regular civilians acting out of irrational fear dropped their guns like they were burned, horrified at the prospect of having handled armed weapons to shoot at familiar teenagers. Those were the ones who ran immediately.

After the panic filed out, the hallway was left in an uncannily still impasse. The remaining hunters gathered on one end – the experienced ones who stayed loyal to Gerard, the ones with psychotic glints in their eyes, the ones filled with revenge-driven rage and the ones obeying Monroe out of ignorance and blind loyalty.

And crap, there were more than they had accounted for. They automatically filed into a formation that gave Theo the uncomfortable feeling of being herded.

He stood with the others on the opposite end, bruised but defiant and slowly joined by the rest of their pack and unlikely allies – werewolves, werecoyotes, chimeras, banshees, hellhounds, were-kanimas and their reckless human friends. By unspoken agreement, they put old divergences and conflicting interests behind them, bonded by the fact that they stood for the supernatural. For that night, all thirteen of them were McCall pack.

What broke the standstill, Theo would never know.

All he knew was, one moment he was eyeing that woman wielding a machete with contempt, the next he was pinned against the lockers by said crazy bitch with her heel pressed into his sternum.

He dug his claws into her calf, relishing her shriek of fury, and swung himself under her leg, narrowly missing the frenzied swipe of her blade. He crouched and speared his claws into the foot of a second assailant creeping up on him, before rising up to deliver a solid back kick to the hunter's screaming face. In one swift movement he spun in a roughly formed roundhouse kick and knocked the weapon from the woman's hands before lunging and throwing her into the walls. She slid down, unconscious. She was replaced immediately by a burly, bearded man with a two revolvers and a terrible scalp tattoo.

"They really aren't they stopping, are they?" Scott's question was strained and barely audible. The despair in his tone hinted it was rhetorical.

Because the answer was in plain sight before him. And he was being forced to absorb its cruel truth with each bullet discharged, each cry of pain from his teammates, each worried twist in his gut.

Deucalion had been right. They couldn't just blame the Anuk-ite for a war spurred by the ugliness of human nature. It had only ever been the catalyst, not the cause. By nature, humans feared the unknown, possessed an intrinsic need to deflect blame, ato categorise, then ostracise. Hence, the unknown were naturally deemed as monstrous threats. And all monsters were to be exterminated.

Scott knew this, he just didn't want to believe it. He couldn't.

"We're not your enemy!" he persisted. "We're not trying to hurt anyone!"

Ethan let out a stuttered cry beside him, his shirt now so tattered he may as well have not been wearing one. Jackson's kanima tail whipped furiously to pierce the hunter who had dared to hurt his boyfriend, repeatedly, almost too fast to see.

Lydia and Parrish had formed a strange but coordinated partnership to his right, the hellhound shielding her with controlled flames, the banshee executing an astonishing display of martial arts prowess. But Scott didn't need to look twice to see that Parrish's flames were dimming. As for the rest of his pack – they were lost to the horde.

"Please." Scott finished in a rasp. "Stop."

He know knew far too well, they wouldn't.

Something bumped into his back and he whirled around to see Stiles materialise out of thin air, Mason and Corey linked to him in a tight chain. Mason was wielding a dented locker door and Stiles, two chemistry textbooks. By some miracle, both humans were relatively unscathed (Corey was a godsend). It was up to Scott to make sure they stayed that way.

"Get them out of here," he directed at the were-chameleon, who immediately whisked Mason and Stiles away from the naked eye just as the latter opened his mouth to protest.

Fine. If this is what it's come down to, then for his pack, he wouldn't stop either. Scott flashed his eyes at the nearby hunters, the challenging brightness instantly attracting their attention.

"You want to take down werewolves? Come for their Alpha first."

Theo stumbled on his feet as he was pistol-whipped by the butt of a rifle, arms reaching up to shield his face a second too slow. Fatigue was starting to wear on him, on all of them, leaving their bodies littered with deep lacerations, bruises and everything worse.

He'd lost Liam again and he was coming to hate how easily the beta's smaller stature could vanish in a crowd. There was too much blasting gunfire to adjust his hearing. Too much blood and gunpowder to focus on smell. Too much adrenaline and pain to concentrate on chemo-signals. He wasn't getting a read on anything but survive, survive, survive.

Malia's sweat-soaked waves swished in his peripheral and with a start he realised she was cornered against a locked classroom door with a shotgun trained on her, point blank. The scene was distressingly familiar, and he loathed how it ended. He ran forward with a growl, forcibly pushing himself between them to wrestle for the gun, feeling the shot punch into his stomach instead as he dismantled the shotgun from the hunter's hands and knocked him to the ground with it wielded like a baton. Good. He owed her as much. He threw the crude piece of metal away with revulsion, knees buckling for a moment. Malia rushed forth to catch him instantly. Theo turned to give her a pained nod charged with apologies and regret. Her eyes flickered between his. There was a beat. Then she was nodding back. And perhaps, perhaps through that wordless exchange, he might've been somewhat forgiven.

Next minute, the wind was knocked out of him again as she flung him protectively into the door with commendable force and leapt over him to knee an incoming attacker in the face, mid-air. Ah Malia, never change.

Theo used this brief lapse to slump against the door and catch his breath, its shattered panel sprinkling glass fragments onto his hair and shoulders. Biting his bottom lip, he readied himself and then gouged two fingers into his wound, digging clumsily, heaving from the exertion, until he felt the crooked bullet gush out of his flesh and clatter to the floor with a clang that was lost in the ruckus. Well, that certainly looked better in movies than it felt.

His skin began stitching itself back immediately, as per the normalities of werewolf healing; the outer layer of skin mended itself first to protect the wound from further irritation and to staunch the blood flow. It would remain sore, however, until everything beneath it healed completely. Not that he had the time for that.

Gritting his teeth he pushed himself back into the action, refusing to be a useless, open target for too long. With a jolt of euphoria, he realised they were beginning to see the end. The mass was thinning – the number of hostile hunters steadily waning, the rest either deciding it was smarter to flee for now or passed out (or paralysed) on the ground.

Finally, as he twisted his body to dodge three more consecutive arrows and slashed a wiry man with a crossbow across the arm, he laid eyes on Liam up ahead, flipping someone twice his size to the ground and pummelling him. He almost smiled; until that line of sight then brought to him the unhinged features belonging to an adversary he'd only heard crackling through intercoms until now. She stood close to the doorway, flanked by three of her closest henchmen, partially shadowed, partially moonlit.

Lydia's shrill cry chose that moment to pierce the air again. If anyone had any previous queries as to telling the difference between Lydia's scream to attack and scream to foretell death, they would no more. This was unmistakable, chilling to the bone. This scream projected promises of black ravens, the icy wisps of cemetery fog and the scratching of dry leaves raking across cobblestone.

Despite the warning, Theo still saw it coming a second too late. Monroe cocked the handgun aimed at Liam's back - at Liam's oblivious, defenceless back - even though he wasn't the closest threat to her. It must have been out of petty grudge; she'd clearly recognised his voice through his spiteful 'you lost' over the transceiver back at the hospital.

Rational Theo, who overanalysed every move, who under-analysed every emotion, was lost to him once again. There was only the Theo who wanted a chance to be better. There was only the Theo who wanted Liam to be there for that.

It was thunderous, her particular shot. Like nothing existed around them besides the violent curl of her finger around the trigger, the expounding intent to murder in her eyes. The first bullet snagged Liam in the side and he gave a surprised grunt of pain and stumbled forward. Sparks spurted from her gun as the second followed, missing Liam's neck by a fraction. _One. Two._

This Theo, he didn't stop to think.

Throwing his weight in front of Liam, he shielded the smaller wolf's form with his own body, snaring his arms around Liam's waist in an action that was almost familiar by now. _Three. Four. Five._ He used the momentum to knock them both to the side, out of harms' way, for the second time that night. _Six. Seven. Eight. Nine._ Liam gave a startled yelp and Monroe continued emptying her clip at them, following their movement. _Ten_. _Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen._

She turned and fled the moment she was out, not even sparing a glance at the aftermath. Derek, being closest to the door, fought his way out to give chase with a furious snarl.

Theo groaned and unravelled himself from Liam, fighting the wave of dizziness that followed, opting to remain half-sprawled on the ground.

"You saved me. Again." Liam said dumbly from beside him.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah…are you?" Liam's brows furrowed as he reached over in concern to give Theo a look-over too. Theo firmly held him in place by the sides of his arms to stop him.

 _Breathe in. Breathe out. Focus on Liam. Your body will heal._

"Yeah. I'm fine." He said in a steady, low voice. Liam visibly relaxed. Closing his eyes, he sighed and leaned back against the lockers. Peter had reached them next and with a calculated slash he disarmed the last of Monroe's close followers who'd stayed behind to slow their chase. The fight was finally, finally ending around them.

Theo bit down the shock of pain that spiked up his spine and watched Liam's panting form beside him, long lashes fluttering against broken skin, drained, injured but ultimately alive. He didn't mention the seven bleeding holes in his back, shoulder and thigh that were burning with an intensity that screamed 'wolfsbane'. Theo didn't say anything because Liam was okay and that was all that mattered. So he worked on compartmentalising the pain - something Theo had mastered over the years, something Theo could do.

His fingers tapped rhythmically against his palm, echoing the syllables.  
 _In. Out. Focus._

He thanked the Gods he didn't believe in that he was wearing all black today.


	5. Chapter 5

Unbearable.

Torn muscle constricted around invasive hard metal, trying to force the foreign objects from his flesh to no avail. His ribcage heaved with exertion and every breath burned. For all it was worth, he felt like he was in the universally depicted depths of hell. Funny though, when he'd _actually_ been in hell, the atmosphere had been close to freezing, not a flicker of a flame in sight.

The pain was nearing unbearable and Theo had never been more alarmed. He was terrified by how much he yearned to call it quits, halt it with an open palm, _wave a white flag_. Terrified by how resigned and how tired he felt.

Yet it continued to taunt him, driving him mad as it wavered tantalisingly close to the threshold of numb unfeeling. That would be such welcome relief, he was almost there…

Almost, but not quite.

The gang was gathering inside Deaton's animal clinic after making timely distress calls to the veterinarian himself as well as Melissa, currently on her way with emergency hospital supplies and painkillers. Parrish had parted ways back at the school to continue his deputy duties, dressed only in burnt uniform pants and an air of law enforcement composure, but not before he procured a singed, deformed, somehow still intact baseball bat to the immense relief of both Mason and Stiles ('I thought I'd lost you forever' the latter had wailed rather embarrassingly, leaving Mason shuffling awkwardly on the side). The rest of them had then filed into their limited vehicles, those more capable wordlessly delegating themselves as drivers.

Theo didn't really remember how he got there, or who was behind the wheel, just that Liam was squeezed beside him, providing a warm comfort. Maybe too warm. The little wolf was burning up.

Right. If he felt the effects of wolfsbane from Monroe's bullets, then that meant the damned first shot had put it into Liam's system too.

In spite of things, they could probably consider themselves lucky that the influence of the Anuk-ite had led many hunters to act rashly without their usual preparation, or else they probably would've faced a lot more poison than they had. Monroe, being the ever so calculating and resentful exception, had made the most of her supply of yellow Wolfsbane, diffusing it in a regular purple mixture and coating just the tip of her bullets to extend the usage. The vile concoction wasn't enough to be fatal immediately, but the burn grew, it gnawed its way up the nerves and singed every throbbing cell it passed.

"Tell yourself it's just a survival mechanism." He said out of the blue without really moving his head.

"What?" Liam whispered back through a tight jaw.

"Your brain is receiving warning signals and then translating it to pain. It's to remind you to protect yourself, which, I think we all know, you're shit at doing." He shifted slightly in his seat, flaring the burn in his back again, and doubled his efforts to feign nonchalance in his voice. "So, single it out like a predator cornering prey. Pull the pain forward and then picture locking it in something secure in your mind, like a box, or a simple drawer for a start. A mind palace that belongs only to you. Other people use this to store memories or knowledge, but it can be altered for pain compartmentalisation."

He looked to Liam then and the young wolf was staring at him with eyes shining in confusion. Had he skipped a few sentences he'd been meaning to say back there? His head was getting a little hazy and it was hard to remember.

"Then you gotta focus on a place that's not hurting. At least, not as bad." He turned back to face the front and added as an afterthought, "Memoiri Loci. That's how I do it."

 _Great, what had compelled him to share the inner workings of his brain with Liam? He probably hadn't made any sense and now Liam was seriously judging him_.

"I'm…impressed." Liam finally said. Theo flicked his eyes over in surprise, an inadvertent grin twitching at the edges of his lips. "That sounds really complicated and...kinda cool actually. I'd try it but I don't think it'll work for me. I'm not the best at sorting through stuff with a cool head, as you've probably noticed," he continued in an almost dejected undertone.

The urge to smile disappeared just as fast as it came. At that moment, it hit Theo that he really hated when Liam demeaned his own abilities, his own worth, and it didn't sound like he meant for a joke. Never mind Theo was usually the one openly insulting him in the first place.

"You can start now." He shot back gruffly. "Your twitching is annoying the fuck out of me."

"Gee, and for a moment I thought you finally knew how to be nice." But Liam obediently closed his eyes and went stock still. It lasted all of 15 seconds.

"Huh."

"Well, did it work?"

"No…I'm too distracted and to be honest I don't feel all that great…and…" He trailed off, eyes slightly glazing and tipped sideways a little.

"Wait, hey– "

He toppled over, head banging on the window in a way that would've been hilarious in any other situation. As soon as they pulled into the driveway Theo all but manhandled Liam out of the car.

"He's been hit by a Wolfsbane mix. Purple and yellow." He informed in a clipped, urgent tone as soon as they walked through the doors, ushering Liam to the table and helping him sit on it. He successfully caught the attention of Scott and Deaton who immediately came over to help.

"We're going to need to burn it out, Liam, and it's not going to be pleasant. " The veterinarian said in a level voice that projected professional repose **.**

Liam winced, "Yeah…okay, sounds fun."

"You're going to be fine." Scott clasped his beta's forearm and looked into his eyes, full of soft sincerity in a way only Scott could achieve, distracting him while Deaton began cutting away Liam's shirt.

Seeing that Liam was in good hands, Theo stepped out of the way and allowed his shoulders to sag. He surveyed the now crowded room. It had been a really long day and it certainly showed.

Stiles and Derek were off to one side, the FBI trainee yowling about how 'now his other toe had been stepped on and pulverised'. The sour looking werewolf rolled his eyes at the boy's antics, but the placating hand he had on Stiles' shoulder stayed steadfast, tell-tale black veins running up the arm and disappearing under the sleeve. Melissa barged into the scene with charged professionalism, heading straight for the complaining human with a painkilling shot at the ready. They would be okay for now.

Lydia, despite a rather heavily bleeding gash on the corner of her forehead, was busying herself with Jackson and Ethan. The two had slumped against each other in the chairs looking ready to pass out, the stress of consecutive days of confinement, torture, the Anuk-ite and the battle catching up to them. Although she held herself like a girl who had been through trials, Theo saw the ever so slight shake in her hands. That group had to go next.

Mason and Corey were playing assistants to Deaton, Mason the only one who looked like he had barely been in the fight back there, whilst the bruised and exhausted appearance of the were-chameleon showed he had probably taken the brunt of the attacks during their invisibility. He was still agile on his feet though, so then maybe Malia, who had stripped down to a fitted tank top and was by the sink roughly wiping away caked blood on her collarbone, would probably need to be seen before him.

Peter Hale's brooding form occupied the corner, nursing a broken arrow stem in his bicep, his eyes darting between each member of the pack. It didn't escape Theo's notice the way they lingered ever so slightly longer on Malia each time. That arrow looked painful but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to really care all that much for the older dude. Maybe it was the slight creeper vibes.

And then there was Scott McCall, who didn't have any visible serious injuries and gave no clues from the way he held himself. But, with Scott being Scott, he could just as easily be hiding it. Theo prioritised him over Peter for sure.

He went through the headcount again, reaffirming his previous assessments. After they were done, after they were all patched up, then maybe… maybe he could get a little help removing the bullets. He could wait.

A long groan that trailed into a pathetic-sounding whine and ended in snuffs of short breaths came from the direction of the table. The atrocious smell of burning flesh filled the room, catching everyone's attention instantly.

"Hang in there bro." Mason was muttering comfortingly to his best friend all the while looking like he was holding down puke. He diligently held healing ointments at the ready while Deaton applied the burner to Liam's bleeding side, where the bullet had left a nasty gash that had begun festering swirls of purple and yellow at the edges. Scott and Corey were holding Liam down on both sides, faces puffed from exertion. They barely had strength left for a volatile young werewolf. A sickly green smoke rose from the wound. Liam continued making tiny hurt noises with wide eyes glowing in shock, even though he must've been far too tired to uphold any werewolf features at this point.

Somewhere inside of Theo began hurting in a completely different way.

He made it to Liam's side in two long strides and placed a hand to the back of his damp neck. The black veins rose immediately, as though with practiced ease. As though taking Gabe's pain just hours before hadn't been his first successful attempt at altruism.

The darkness seared up his arm and directly to his head, jolting him alert yet clouding his senses at the same time. It all already hurt so much anyway though, so what was the harm of taking more? At least the other type of pain had stopped constricting his chest as he watched the little beta slowly relax, eyes fluttering closed and fangs finally retreating. When Theo eventually pulled his hand away, a sudden chill rushed up his spine that pushed the breath out of his lungs. With a distant realisation he noted his back felt completely soaked, both burning and freezing. Okay, so maybe he wasn't in the best state to have done that. But one look at Liam, who was no longer struggling in his seat, and he knew he wouldn't have it any other way.

"Thanks Theo." Liam was saying very softly. Theo heard him loud and clear.

Because the room was entirely silent and utterly devoid of movement.

...Maybe he really shouldn't have moved.

The reverie was broken by Deaton first, gesturing for the ointment in Mason's hands to continue his treatment. Melissa followed, turning to continue wrapping up Stiles' foot. Everyone else continued to stare.

"What?" Theo asked self-consciously. He was beginning to feel seriously light-headed and the sudden attention had him more than a little disoriented. The last time he had so many pairs of eyes solely on him he'd ended up with a broken nose, a dislocated arm and enough death threats to last two lifetimes.

When no one replied, he spun on his heel and escaped the clinic, muttering a feeble excuse about needing air.

As soon as he was out of earshot he bent over and heaved into the grass. What came out was tinged with black. Well, that was delightful. Definitely an accurate representation of how he was feeling.

 _You can take this, Theo. This is nothing compared to Hell._ He tried to repeat to himself.

Now wasn't the time to surrender to anything. He'd played around whatever life had thrown at him for the last ten years, no matter how many times he'd thought he wouldn't make it.

A white flag was never something that existed for him anyway.

 _In. Out. Focus._


End file.
